Story cover for Anastasia's Red Shoes by Drlaughter
Anastasia's Red Shoes
  • WpView
    Reads 2,075
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    Votes 98
  • WpPart
    Parts 10
  • WpView
    Reads 2,075
  • WpVote
    Votes 98
  • WpPart
    Parts 10
Ongoing, First published Jun 13, 2015
Mature
-All rights reserved 2016-
created by Drlaughter
Genre:Horror
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Mahilig ka ba sa segunda mano??

"Miss magkano toh bibilhin ko!"

Lahat gagawin mo para lang makuha ang gusto mo?

"Kaya kong bilhin ang buong shop na ito pati na rin ikaw at ang sapatos na ito"

Pero ang hindi mo alam,ang bagay na ginamit mo ay galing pala sa isang...
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Multo!!

Halina't bagtasin ang buhay ni Jamaica at ang segunda mano niyang RED SHOES
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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Place, characters and events are not exactly happened...

this is the three ways to do to my story..
*read
*Vote
*comment
thank you for cooperation and enjoy the story..
All Rights Reserved
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Wezt Is Going To East (Still Editing) by bluwibeingblu
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WEZT, Fifteen years. That's how long I've been a ghost. Before that? Let's just say it wasn't pretty. Orphaned young, I learned early on that the world cares little for sentiment. It's a brutal place; if you're not strong, you get crushed. I learned to be strong. Very strong. The streets were my training ground. Survival was my only teacher. I learned to move like a shadow, to anticipate danger, to use anything as a weapon. It wasn't a life I chose, but it was the life I had. Then came the Red Dragons-a yakuza gang in Japan. They found me, a scrawny kid with only street smarts and a will to survive. They saw potential, raw talent that could be molded into something lethal. They turned me into a weapon. Fifteen years of relentless training pushed my body and mind to the absolute limit. They honed my skills, refined my instincts, and erased any trace of the kid I once was. The tattoo on my back is a constant reminder of that transformation-a brand, a mark of ownership, a symbol of a past I can't escape. I was a tool, a ghost in their service, carrying out their orders without question. There were missions I'd rather forget, things I'd rather not remember. But those memories are etched into my soul, shaping the man I am today. They made me strong, efficient, and ruthless. They made me a ghost. That life ended when I met the Boss. He offered a deal: protection for his family in exchange for a chance at something else-a life beyond the shadows. It was a calculated risk, but my best option. I was good at what I did, and he needed someone to handle the difficult aspects of his business. I was the hammer, crushing opposition without hesitation; the silent guardian, the shadow that kept his family safe. was a ghost, but finally my own ghost. Then you came along, and the equation changed. Now, I'm facing a different kind of battle, one that requires more than just skill and precision. It requires...something else. Something I'm still trying to understand.
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